


Cause I’m a little bit crazy (out of my head)

by badwriterrr



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (Suki let him borrow hers), Episode: s03e14-15 The Boiling Rock, Fluff, M/M, Sokka has braincells for once, Song fic, Western Air Temple, Zuko is a gay disaster, idiots to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:22:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwriterrr/pseuds/badwriterrr
Summary: Zuko knows the rules about friendship, he knows his place in the gaang isn’t set in stone, and yet he can’t help but be a little be crazy.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 209





	Cause I’m a little bit crazy (out of my head)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Hundred Dollar Bill](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/697900) by Illy Jo. 



> Okay so I girl I used to go to school with wrote this song call Hundred Dollar Bill and I found it and honestly it's so good it inspired me to write this fic.
> 
> Pure chaos.

> Based on [**_Hundred Dollar Bill by Illy Jo_**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BujrQn9vHFg)

* * *

Okay, so Zuko wasn’t known for being a particularly sultry kind of guy, he was more brooding and awkward if anything. If Mai and he hadn’t already been betrothed, he doubted she’d ever look the other way at him. And he truly had no idea what Jinn or Jet ever saw in him, though, he supposed, they didn’t even really know him. How exactly was he supposed to seduce another person when he had a disfiguring scar covering half his face and the conversational skills of a mute turtleduck? The person in question not only being in a relationship, but also attracting the interest of every female in a ten-mile radius, including a blind twelve-year-old and the actual fucking moon. How exactly does one compete with the moon? It’s the moon? 

Despite the absurdity of it all, Zuko couldn’t help himself with the occasional day-dream of brown skin and the bluest eyes in the world. 

If Katara found out, she’d do more than kill him. Agni, if Sokka found out he’d probably do worse, not to mention what Suki would do to him. 

He shivered, trying to erase the image of his own disembowelment.

He was being stupid, entertaining lewd impossibilities that would get him kicked out of his new-found home. But ever since he let his inhibitions get the better of him, traveling with Sokka to the boiling rock, he’d truly reached a new low. He’d gotten too close. And what was once an onlooker's appreciation became a very serious problem.

Sokka was his friend. Sokka trusted him. Sokka was kind of him. And how did Zuko repay him? With sweat inducing dreams that left Zuko flushed and needing to change his sheets. Zuko was not being a very good friend, he thought. Friends aren’t supposed to drool over other friend while they train, taking too lingering glances at exposed skin and panting lips. What he was doing wasn’t okay. It just wasn’t. Sokka didn’t deserve to be treated like a platter of fried Komodo chicken. He was a good person who didn’t deserved to be leered at by someone he trusted.

Zuko needed to stop, he needed to get himself under control, he needed to defeat his father and train the avatar. He did not need this on his mind right now. He had yet to even let his brain accommodate the fact that Sokka was a guy. He stacked that into a box with everything that happened between him and Jet. He wasn’t touching that with a ten foot pole.

Speaking of ten foot poles, it was then when Sokka, drenched in fresh water, took the liberty of approaching the river bank where Zuko sat, curled in the patch of shade to protect his delicately porcelain skin.

He looked like a spirit. And not the good kind. A deceitful water nymph here to lure fishermen to their rocky deaths. He was dripping water, droplets spilling down from his loose hair, framing his face in mousey perfection. His half naked body catching in yellow under Agni’s watchful gaze. He was going to kill Zuko like this. Offering a painful, endless death.

“What’s wrong, pretty boy,” Said Sokka, hands on his hips, allowing round shoulders to expose themselves. Zuko hated the nickname. Not only because it made his ears pink and stomach flutter, but also because of the blatant nature of it’s wrongness. Zuko was anything but pretty. Carved of bone and a lithe torso and abused with scares and burns, mutilated by war. One working eye that made the other over-dilated and slow, and a mop of unkempt black hair that receded to early on his left side above his burn. 

When Zuko didn’t reply Sokka snorted, kick his foot and slid down beside him to watch the others frolic in the river. Then without warning, he flung his arm and hooked it around Zuko’s shoulder to drag him closer into a strange half hug. Zuko felt his entire body vibrate at the contact, whatever it’s idiotic meaning. He pressed their cheeks together, peach fuzz brushing against the side of his face, as Sokka focused on the others. 

It was like Sokka was playing a game and Zuko didn’t know the rules. Sokka was play Pai Sho and Zuko was playing tag. 

Sokka wasn’t even bothered by the contact, he hadn’t even registered how pink Zuko’s face had went. He was smirking when Zuko peaked a glance beside him. Finding curled lips and a harsh brow as his eyes followed his girlfriend in the water. Zuko tried to ignore that feeling. He wasn’t going to blame Sokka for that. Suki was beautiful in braided ginger hair, the water tightening the tunic to her body, turning it dark green as it silhouetted everything Zuko didn’t have to make Sokka love him back. 

Then without warning, Sokka turned to him, water flicking into Zuko’s as he moved. Zuko flinched away, nothing the few inches of space they had between their faces. Sokka, as usual, seemed unbothered. 

“You’re skittish today,” Said Sokka with a maniacally cool tone. He sounded like a cat-snake playing with its food. Toying with him before putting him out of his feeble misery. 

“Stressed,” Zuko choked out, looking at his hands, looking at the mud, looking at literally anything other than Sokka’s tanned body and jovial smirk.

“I thought these air nomad places were meant to bring tranquility and peace?” Asked Sokka gesturing back to their camp.   
Zuko did not dignify him with a response. Sokka could figure that out for himself. And he probably would sooner or later, being the smart ass he was.

Sokka hummed to himself, still grinning, before retuning to undressing Suki with his eyes. 

Zuko was fucked. He was actually fucked. Sokka was too boisterous, too flirtatious— and Zuko was too touched starved and horny to let his mind go anywhere else. Every thought he had was Sokka. Every steamy thought alone in his tent was of Sokka. His mind was a broken record of lust. 

He was teenager for fucks sake, he was supposed to be like this about girls. He was supposed to want to be like Sokka, not to want to have Sokka. And even then. His infatuations had always been normal. Harmless crushes on a refugee freedom fighter, or an experimental thought of an earth kingdom girl. He was not supposed to be this desperate for someone. Yet here he was, fleeing his sister, yet he could only think about how Sokka and Suki were looking at one another on their ride on Appa.

And then of course came Katara, here to remind him in perfect detail of the kind of person he was. What he had done to them. How he would never be able to fix it. How he would never be accepted by them truely. He needed to make it right. He owed it to her. His family had taken her mother, he had chased them around the world and broken her trust, and here we has again lusting over her brother. 

There was only one person who could help him fix it. So Zuko gritted his teeth, tried to think about his uncle, and entered the tent. 

To say that he had been thrown into the worst situation possible may have been a little more than an understatement. Because there was Sokka. Hair down and eyes wide, flooded by warm light and the hazy smell of roses. Zuko’s entire body sank into a little pool in his gut. 

Sokka raised a brow, and sat up straight.

“Can I help you?” He asked, brow raised, that stupid stupid smirk seeping back onto his expression. 

Zuko, with great effort, sputtered out a few words and sunk to the ground.

“Bager-mole got your tongue?” Sokka snorted, leaning back, swordsman arms tensing under his weight. 

He was back in the game, it seemed. A two faced Sokka, switching from giddy and boyish to the tease of the century. 

Oh if only Zuko’s ancestors could see him now. _Woe is me, turning to a pack of fire-flies whenever a water tribe peasant looks at me funny._ What a disgrace to the fire nation, they would say. 

Zuko needed to behave, Zuko needed to focus. Zuko needed to thing about literally anything else or things would become far to obvious far too quickly. 

If only he knew the rules of whatever game Sokka was playing.

“I need you to tell me what happened to your mother,” he said bringing himself back to reality.

Sokka’s face sunk for just a second, before going into wretched detail about his mother’s death. Talk about a mood killer. It would have been easy to stand and leave after that. To get up and waltz away from this perfectly disheveled Sokka. It would have been had Zuko not been so distracted by how Sokka’s Adam apple bobbled as he spoke.

After a moment of silence, Sokka perked up, shuffling closer to Zuko.

“Can I tell you something?” He said, teeth glinting in the darkness.

“No,” Zuko shrieked at their haste closeness.

“It’s nothing you don’t already know,” he said firmly, not waiting for Zuko to respond, “You’re very nice to look at,” he said softly, almost a purr.

Zuko knew he was hearing that wrong. His malformed brain misinterpreting the meaning. So he simply nodded, staring at his knees.

Sokka blinked, then flicked his lip over his top teeth. And then, unmistakably, Sokka’s eyes flicked down to Zuko’s own lips. He was reading this wrong. Sokka wasn’t playing that. He wasn’t doing that. He was toying with him. He wasn’t actually like that. He was playing Azula, staging dolls.

“You need to stop doing that,” said Zuko in a very quiet voice. Helpless to his own mouth. At Sokka’s quizzical expression, Zuko spoke again, a little louder this time. “You and I are playing completely different games, with completely different rules… It’s driving me crazy.”

And then Sokka did the one thing Zuko hadn’t quite thought of, he moved closer. Impossibly closer. “What do you mean.”

“I know what your trying to do. I’ve seen it a million times with my sister. I know how this goes and how it ends.”

Yet Sokka still smiled, his silence sucking all the air out or the room, “I’ll bet you one hundred bronze coins, that you haven’t seen what i’m playing.”

Zuko hicked, and froze. Brain broken. Thought numb. 

“Close your eyes,” said Sokka, half into his ear. 

With no thoughts to send out restraint, Zuko did as he was told.

When it happened. The world exploded. Softness. Gentle. Lips pressed to his. Juvenile and inexperienced even as Zuko’s mouth opened into the kiss. It was happing before his memories could catch up with him. He was kissing. He was kissing Sokka. Why was he kissing Sokka? Was Sokka okay with this? Did Sokka know how he felt. Was Sokka mad? Who else knew. Suki? Katara? Aang? Was this a trick? A prank? Some joke to lure him into submission. To laugh at his expense.

Helplessly, Zuko came to himself and shoved Sokka off him. 

Still Sokka did not seem dismayed. He was smiling. And they were alone. And Sokka had kissed him. 

“I think you really do owe me those hundred bronze coins? Right?” Said Sokka, grinning as Zuko took his face in his hands, and kissed him again. 

Yes. Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe Zuko and he had been playing the same game after all, and it seemed maybe he had lost. But he was okay with that. He was more than okay with that. Because he was kissing Sokka.


End file.
